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My Brother

Quick Note: I would advise reading ‘Nine Stars in the Sky’
before this piece for background information.However, this can be read as a stand-alone.

My Brother

By Phoenix’s
Melody

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear
Brother,

He paused, looking at the words, his
quill poised in mid-air.What was he
doing?When he had first decided to
start a final farewell letter to his sole family member, it had seemed like a
good idea.Now, faced with the daunting
task of finding the right words to mend a chasm with the aid of a single
letter, he could not fathom how he could do it.Tell him the truth…He lowered his pen and began to write.

By
the time you read this, if you do read this, I will be dead.

He wrote in between bouts of frantic
scrambles to stir the bubbling mixture heating over the fireplace and murmured
incantations to charm a nasty surprise for his visitors.He wrote in between stretches of
contemplation and attacks of fear for what was coming, insecurities plaguing
and mocking him.But still he wrote
until he was done.

He left his potion and his hiding
place then to briefly walk into the nearest owl post office.Faking an emergency, he managed to convince
the witch to let him send the letter on the fastest owl she had before warning
her of an impending Death Eater attack.She had looked at him in pure shock, uncomprehending.He told her to leave as soon as possible,
warning any other witches and wizards in the town, and not to return until
daylight.Then he had swept out of the
office, payment left on the counter in front of her, not bothering to see if
she would obey his instructions.He
returned to his frantic preparations.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The owl, finding no one at home,
dropped the letter on the kitchen table where it sat, untouched and unnoticed,
until the chilly darkness began to yield its domination of the sky.A cold sun began to rise into that gray
morning, an icy frost in the spring.A
woman entered the flat then, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, her features
hidden in the folds of her hood.When
the door was locked and secured, the disguise fell to the ground.Her grubby apron and maid’s dress were
quickly exchanged for a set of warm, comfortable robes.Make-up was wiped off and then reapplied to
hide the shadows under her eyes.She
would sleep, but not yet, not until he came home.

She entered the kitchen, too tired and
disheartened to even hum as she usually did.Her work was demanding and dangerous.Sometimes, she felt like she was drowning in what she saw and heard each
night.She glanced at the clock on the
wall, ticking serenely away.Quarter past five.She looked anxiously out the window,
searching for a familiar figure sauntering down the street.If he
went drinking, I’ll kill him. She thought out of pure fear.She knew he wouldn’t have gone drinking, not
while there was a war to be fought, not when he had to work.He didn’t have a reason to be late.She knew he knew how easily she worried and
made every effort to come home on time.He should be home by now.Dread began to fill her and she shook it off
as best she could.He can take care of himself.You
know how he is, always trying to pull James away from work.James works too much.I wonder if Lily’s up?The woman shook her head, trying to calm
herself, to stem the flow of anxiety.She began making a cup of tea with trembling hands.Last
night was hell…

She sank into the kitchen chair, her
cramped hands cupped around the soothing warmth of her cup.It was only then that she noticed the letter
and her lips thinned in disgust.With an
angry flick of her wand, she sent the letter flying into a wooden box that sat
next to the fireplace.How dare he write to us when he knows that
we’ll never join.Poisoned words.If she was the serving wrench, she would have
spit in contempt, but that persona came out only when all else was dark.In the dawning daylight, she was a refined
woman from a good family and contempt came only from the smoldering look she
gave the box.

She would tell her fiancé that his
younger brother wrote to them, but it was only out of traditional courtesy that
she didn’t destroy the letter immediately.Her in-laws were despicable people and her brother-in-law was a murdering
coward.Color rose in her cheeks as she
struggled to rein in her ever-mounting anger and frustration.Suddenly she sat upright, her anger forgotten, when she heard the locks tumble open.Wand in hand, she rose silently from her seat
and moved toward the kitchen door.

“Sweetheart?” a familiar, beloved
voice called out.Her heart lifted with
relief.“Are you home?”

“In here,” she called.“What’s your question today?”

“Who am I?”

“My fiancé and a thieving Lab,” she
teased, her mood brightening considerably.“You ate all of the biscuits again.”

“Did not!” he protested indigently as
he shed his cloak and weapons in the foyer.“My turn, what’s your younger brother’s oldest brother’s name?”

“Will,” she replied.“Nice try.”She laughed when he entered the room.He was a tall, handsome man with shoulder-length black hair.His stride was long and confident and his
every action suggested power that was barely controlled.Yet, he wrapped his arms around her and
kissed her with a gentleness that would have surprised many of his
colleagues.But those colleagues would
never see his beauty on his arm at any celebration.Save the one that would happen when the war
ended.And the official wedding that
would follow.If they were around to see
it, that is.The two professions the
couple had involved themselves in had high mortality rates in these troubled
times.There were no guarantees.

“How was your night?” he asked
softly.Her happiness vanished and she
started to tremble.He rocked her and
held her tight as she cried, running one hand up and down her back like he did
with his cousin’s daughter to soothe her.She clung to his dirt-stained robes.

“I hate them.”Each word was punctuated by a sob, full of
grief and anger.“I hate them.Death is too good for them.I hate them.”He shushed her quietly.He really
wished she would stop her work.Doesn’t she see what it’s doing to her?Doesn’t Dumbledore see what it’s doing to
her?It’s got to stop.But he pressed his lips tight and didn’t say
a word of his thoughts aloud.He had
married a proper woman, of good family, of refinement, but she was by no means
a trophy wife.From firsthand
experience, he knew she was very capable of holding her own in an argument and
scolding as loudly as she needed to in order to get her point across.His ears had rung for hours after their last
argument.He knew there was no way she
would stop until she decided that the risks outweighed the benefits of her
position.Until then, he could only pray
that he would be able to hold her like this every morning until both of them
were old and wrinkled, with this war far behind them.

Eventually, her tears ceased and her
iron control subdued her righteous anger.He let go of her then, to let her wipe away her tears and smile weakly
at him, an act that would fool most people, but not him.

“So,” she said in a tone that meant
business, “Why were you late today?I
was getting worried.”His face
darkened.He had managed to forget the
news once he had come home, but now a tint of bitter grief rose to the
surface.He sat down in her vacated
chair.

She knew by the look on his face that
his night had not gone much better than hers.She glanced at the window, wondering about the women who were standing
at their windows, waiting anxiously, praying fervently for their husbands to
come home, and about the husbands, fathers and brothers who wouldn’t make it
through the doorway into the arms of their loved ones.She busied herself with making her beloved a
cup of coffee, which she pushed into his unresisting hands.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“He’s dead,” he answered flatly.“He left the Death Eaters, the stupid fool,
and now he’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, knowing
instantly who ‘he’ was.

“I don’t know.If he hadn’t listened to Mother…” Anger and
regret glinted in his eyes.She watched
him sympathetically before she hugged him.He took a sip of his coffee.“They torched the place, but he apparently fought like hell before he
died.We found three bodies total.”

“How — how do you know for sure?”

“They found —” his voice caught, “They
found his lucky charm in the ashes, the gold nine I got for him in Hogsmeade,
the one I had made for him.I didn’t
know he’d kept it with him all these years….”

“Sweetheart,” she said softly,
kneeling on the floor, one hand touching his cheek, “it’s
over.We can’t change the past.He chose his path and you chose yours.You were enemies.You didn’t have a choice.”

“He’s my brother…”

“I know. I know.But he was a Death Eater too, and we both
agree that the fewer Death Eaters there are, the more likely we’re going to
win.He was your brother and he
apparently took two other Death Eaters with him when he went down.”

“He was always decent with defensive
spells,” he smiled slightly.She
returned that weak smile and stood up from the floor, her hands gently pulling
him out of his chair.

“Let’s get to bed,” she told him,
leading him out of the kitchen, towards their bedroom, “we’re both tired and
we’ve probably still got more work tonight.”He kissed her hand and meekly followed her lead.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The letter would be forgotten for
years, unnoticed in the fight for survival, in the blindness of grief, in the
passage of time.Until one day, when
that same woman, some fifteen years later, older, wiser, and stronger, opened a
forgotten storage box and saw the stack of parchment inside.A look of surprise crossed her face when she
picked up the letter.

“What is it?” a tall, bespectacled,
black-haired boy asked.His friends, a
bushy-haired girl and a brother and sister with flaming red hair, stopped their
dusting at the concern in his voice.

“What?” asked the bushy-haired girl with
a hint of impatience and curiosity, “Forgotten what?”The woman did not seem to hear as she sat
down on a recently polished trunk.She
carefully opened the letter, taking out the water-stained paper, and began to
read.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear
Brother,

By the time you read this, if you do read this, I
will be dead.I have left the Death
Eaters and I know the Dark Lord has already handed down my sentence of
death.I accept it, not out of stupidity
or pride, but because I know my hand will move faster.

There is something you must know and communicate
to Albus Dumbledore.It is vital that
you do so.I know he has always been
your friend.I think he should know
about this.It might make the fight for
him and those who work with him easier to bear.The Dark Lord has spilt his soul in two, perhaps into more pieces.I have not had the time to discover more, but
to split a soul in two is already unthinkable.I both can and cannot imagine him committing such a hideous violation of
nature, but I have found that very little surprises me anymore these days.I have found the vessel that holds the other
piece of his soul and have it in my possession.It is necklace, overwrought for my taste, an heirloom of
Slytherin’s.I intend to destroy it as
soon as I finish writing this final missive to you.It will cost me my life to destroy this
wrong, but it is right.It will not
atone for all of my crimes, but perhaps it will help you to one day to forgive
me.

I have been a coward all my life and you were
right to call me so the last time we met.I know that I have never stood up for myself or for you.I should have.Perhaps then we would not be reduced to this,
to my saying goodbye and struggling to settle my many last regrets with
words.You were right about many
things.Perhaps it was your older
brother wisdom speaking or some ancient prophet’s blood in your veins.But like a fool, I ignored your warnings and
blundered my way to where I am now.There is too much to say to you and not enough time to say it nor enough words to express them.But let me try just the same.

I know now that Mother was wrong.There can be no righteousness in the killing
of defenseless children.Our purity in
blood has led to madness in many of us.You are not a blood traitor.We
are.We have forgotten our obligations
to the world, that we are to protect them, not kill them.Traditions, the wrong traditions, have been
so deeply embedded in me that it has taken me so long to find my way.But I remember how you always have been a
fighter.I do not know if my death is a
victory for the Dark or the Light.I
think it is both.The Dark for they have
claimed another victim of their own making and the Light for they have won a
late convert.My choices have led to the
end, but perhaps my death will do some good before I breathe my last.Keep on fighting and do not give up.You will succeed where I have failed.You will survive and escape the death that
awaits me tonight.

Do not think of me with grief.I do not think you will.Perhaps all of your tears were spent by the
time I was born.I highly doubt that I
am worthy of your pride.You would not
brag about my atrocities as a Death Eater and I do not want you to.I do not want your pity.If there is a thing we have in common, beyond
the blood that you detest so much, it is that we do not want pity of any sort
for our troubles.We both must accept
the consequences of our choices.I do
not have the time to beg for your forgiveness in person, so this letter must
suffice, if it should even reach you.I
hope you forgive me for my stupidity and cowardice, for my weakness of
will.I know better than to expect
forgiveness for my actions as a Death Eater.I am sorry that I have caused so much pain and confusion.I know you have every reason to destroy this
letter without reading it and I do not blame you.My actions are hardly worthy or something to
be proud of.

I hope that when this war ends, you will still be
standing amongst the survivors.I hope
one day you will marry and have a family of your own, with many children and a
loving wife—a happy household that is bright and full of laughter.Not like our childhood.I know you will raise your children to be
like you, to rebel against tradition and to protect those that need protection.I know you will teach them to dream and
embrace Muggle culture while remembering who they are.I know that the family’s curse will end with
you.You will not allow your children to
be taught in the Black ways and I wish you every luck
in that endeavor though I know you will not need it.I suppose what I am also asking you to do is
to live my dreams for me.I will never
have a chance for a happy life and I want you to be happy, in what ways you can
be.

I know that I am babbling like a fool in this,
but I do not have much time left and too much left to do.I intend to take as many Death Eaters with me
when I go as I know you would want me to.For your sake and for mine, I will do so.I must go, so I will say what I should have
said to you a long time ago.I love you
Sirius.Stay safe if you can, but if you
must, fight until the end.Goodbye, my
brother.Think better of me one day.

Your
brother,

Regulus A. Black

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author’s Notes:
This companion piece to ‘Nine Stars in the Sky’ wrote itself on July 17 mainly
in answer to a persistent plot bunny’s question: What did Regulus
write in his letter to his brother?That
being said, Ms. Rowling created and rules the Harry Potter universe.I’m simply borrowing it for my own amusement.

//

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